Pushing Up Daisies
by Saint Bacchus
Summary: Pet Sematary spoof with Persona 1 cast. Nate's pet android goes mental and turns into a killing machine...sort of.
1. The Legend

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Persona or any of the characters described therin. 

**Pre-Author's Notes:** This story contains two original characters that I introduced in other stories, which I can post if anyone would like (otherwise, they're already posted on my homepage). Anyway, I hope I've explained them well enough for their function in this story. 

* * *

**Pushing Up Daisies**   
by Kocchi Highwind 

_Magic and technology   
Voodoo dolls and chants   
Electricity   
We're makin'   
(Weird science)   
Fantasy and microchips   
Shooting from the hip   
Something different   
We're makin'   
...   
From my heart and from my hands   
Why don't people understand   
My intentions?_

--Oingo Boingo, "Weird Science" 

* * *

**Part 1: The Legend**

The night was frosty, the company, equally so as they followed their friend deeper into the forest. It was fall in Lunarvale, and the St. Hermelin "loser" posse had picked a particularly Halloweenish night to have a slasher movie marathon. Afterwards, as a capper for an already creepy night, one girl had convinced the others to follow her to what she claimed was an historical grave site.... 

"Ellen, how much farther?" Brad demanded. 

"We've been out here for an hour and forty-two minutes," Nate stated, checking his Indiglo watch. 

"I'm cold! Let's go back in," Alana complained. 

"Will you guys quit whining? We're almost there," Ellen replied. Her answer was muffled by the encroaching trees as she foraged ahead. The others stopped. 

"I ain't up for this crap," said Mark, "I'm goin' home." 

"And how are you going to do that?" Nate asked reasonably. "I don't think any of us thought to leave a trail of breadcrumbs." 

"Forget that. I'll find my way." Mark turned to leave. 

Suddenly, a large owl swooped down from a pine tree, buzzing Mark's bright yellow cap. Mark turned around. 

"Maybe I'll just hang with you guys." 

"Come on!" Ellen exclaimed. She turned suddenly and disappeared behind a patch of sycamore trees. 

Slowly, the group trudged on, past the sycamores. 

"We're here," said Ellen. She was standing in the center of a large clearing ringed by twelve towering sycamores. 

"Huh?" asked the group. 

"I told you we were close...." 

"What is this place, anyway?" Mary spoke quietly. 

Ellen's face lit up. "It's a burial ground! Legend has it that the Toltecs used this place for human sacrifice. They stopped using it, though." 

Alana's voice was a little bit squeakier than normal as she asked, "Why?" 

Ellen's mouth curved upwards, revealing a set of menacing white teeth that gleamed in the light of the flashlights held by Brad and Nate. "Well...after one season of terrible drought, in which many Toltecs died, it is said that the priests and medicine men and elders convened up here for another sacrifice, in the hopes of appeasing their gods. But what they found when they got here was...." 

"Piracy of a Stephen King novel?" Nate offered. 

Ellen batted her eyes and smirked. "No." 

Alana gulped. "What, then?" 

Ellen shrugged. "Nothing. When they got here, they found a hole in the ground where the last sacrifice had been buried. They assumed the body had been stolen, and that's why the gods had punished them." 

"Is that the whole story...or is there more?" Mary wanted to know. 

"They were wrong," Ellen continued. "The next night, as they prepared for the second sacrifice, a chill was in the air. Many of the group had a strong feeling of foreboding." 

"Brrrrrr!" Mary shivered. Mark was quick to slide an arm around her shoulders. 

Ellen went on. "They proceeded with the ritual. But, just as they were about to kill the sacrifice...BAM!" 

The group jumped. 

"The original victim appeared from behind the trees and slaughtered them all!" 

"He – he wasn't dead?" Mary was trembling. 

Ellen intoned ominously, "That depends what you mean. We might say he was _undead_. The magic that haunts this ground brought him back to life as an evil, pus-dripping, bloodthirsty ZOMBIE freak!" 

"I'm outta here," Alana said as she darted out of the circle. 

"Me, too!" Brad followed. 

"Preposterous!" said Nate. "There were never any Toltecs in this area!" 

"Who cares? All I know's this place is _freaky_, and me an' Mary are getting the hell out." Mark also turned to leave. 

"Aw, what a bunch of fraidy-cats," Ellen said loudly, as she, too, turned to follow. 

"I liked your story, Ellen," said Daisy as the group moved out of the forest. Daisy was an unfinished android created by Nate to be a more perfect version of the girl he had a crush on, but she had gained sentience after an electrical storm. 

"Thanks, Daisy. I'm glad somebody appreciates it," she added, glaring at Nate. 

Nate shrugged. "I'm sorry, Ellen, but I just don't believe that we just saw a Toltec burial ground. The Toltecs lived in the Americas." 

Ellen persisted, "I read it in a book on great legends of the Indians at the library. I may have some details wrong, but the place is right. Other historical records confirm it." 

"I love legends," Daisy declared. "Nate, do we have book on ghosts or legends at home?" 

"We have books on everything. Why don't you read a nice astronomy text? You like stars, too." 

"l like astrology. Anyway, I want to read about legends! They're so great!" 

Nate frowned. "Yeah, great. Come on, Daisy. Let's get you home to bed." 

~^^~

The next Monday at lunch, Nate spoke to Ellen. 

"I'm going to be brief. I don't have a lot of time right now, because I have to get to my next class." 

"Yeah, I know. How did you get stuck with ninth-hour lunch, anyway?" 

"It's just been that kind of year, I think. Anyway, what I wanted to say is, I didn't mean to rain on your parade Saturday. It's just that Daisy is so impressionable, I don't want her getting any strange ideas." 

Ellen wrinkled her nose. "I don't get it. If you programmed her and gave her knowledge, why is she impressionable?" 

"Well, I couldn't very well program her with everything I know, could I? Even if I did, I don't know everything. To make up for what would otherwise have been a substantial knowledge deficit, I focused my attention on her RAM instead of her ROM." 

Ellen frowned. "Nate, I'm into fantasy, not sci-fi. What's the translation for human beings?" 

"Instead of trying to give her an unchanging knowledge bank, I gave her the ability to learn. I thought that would be more useful in the long run." Nate finished with a troubled look at his shoes. 

"Okay, that sounds good. So you can teach her anything she doesn't already know." 

"Right. The problem – " Nate looked up at Ellen " – is that I spent so much time doing that, that I forgot to program a lot of the basic things that I take for granted." 

"Like what?" 

"Well...I've seen her walking along the center line of our street. And once I caught her just before she put a knife in the toaster!" 

Ellen's eyes widened. "Wow! What are you going to do about it?" 

"I'm teaching her everything I can think of," Nate sighed wearily. "I replaced the regular scissors with safety scissors and told her not to run with them. I had the servants childproof the electrical outlets. I told the maid to use the type of window cleaner that leaves streaks. All adhesive or fluid substances in the entire mansion are non-toxic or clearly marked with Mr. Yuck. All markers are now washable. I don't know what else to do." 

"Do you have to keep, like, constant eye on her?" 

"Like she was five years old." 

"Oh my." 

"I can only hope that my instructions took." 

The bell rang; Nate was late to class. 

"Good luck with your droid, man," Ellen said cheerfully as Nate trudged to his class. 

~^^~

Nate and Daisy met outside the school at 4:30 sharp, and they began their short walk to the student parking lot. 

"How was school today, Daisy?" Nate asked as he scanned the area for his black BMW. Inside his pocket, he fidgeted nervously with the key. 

"It was good. I feel like I've learned so much that my brain is going to explode!" She frowned suddenly. "There is one thing I can't get, though." 

"What's that?" Nate asked, bracing himself for the answer. 

"I can't sing, no matter how hard I try," she pouted. 

Nate flicked a button attached to his keyring and, with a beep, the doors of his car unlocked. "Not to worry," he reassured as they stepped into the car, "I equipped you with a respiratory system for this purpose. It's only a matter of learning how to turn air into sound." 

"Impossible." 

Nate shrugged as well as one can when holding a steering wheel. "The hardest part is training your ear to hear pitches properly. And I'm pretty sure that you don't have any trouble with that. You are remembering to breathe?" 

"Breathe?" 

"Yes. You have to have good breath support to produce a good sound, either from an instrument or from your own voice." 

Daisy shrugged. "I don't get it." 

"Well, why don't you have Mariel over to coach you today?" Nate smiled reassuringly and patted Daisy's knee. 

"I guess," Daisy agreed unhappily. "I just wish I were a real girl." 

~^^~

As soon as he got home, Nate went up to his room and called Mariel to explain the situation. Mariel was Nate's oldest and dearest friend; not surprisingly, she had not taken well to Daisy, the theoretically perfect version of herself. 

"Having a robotic girlfriend isn't all it's cracked up to be, huh?" Mariel's voice crackled over the line, but Nate had a feeling it was less the phone than sheer spite. 

"She's not my – " Nate began, but Mariel was already gone. Nate sighed and hung up his receiver. 

Realizing that he had no idea where Daisy was, Nate quickly checked out his window. From there he could see most of the front lawn, and...Daisy was rollerblading on the smooth blacktop of the driveway. Nodding with satisfaction to see that she was wearing all of her protective gear, Nate sat down on his bed to take a well-deserved rest. A new tape had come in the mail. Nate took from his bookbag a video cassette wrapped in plain brown paper. Unwrapping it, he leaned across his bed to shove the tape into his personal VCR. Within seconds, the familiar faces of Bob Saget, Dave Coulier, and John Stamos flashed on the screen while a soothing jingle played. Nate reached over to his nightstand, where a plate of miniature bran muffins and butter cookies was laid out. A frosty glass of milk stood at attention next to the plate. Nate relaxed, popping a cookie into his mouth. On the TV, beautiful California girl D.J. was getting ready to dump the rich but sensitive Nelson. Just as Nate was about to wash down the cookie and share an emotional moment with his favorite character, a scream rang out from outside. 

"Oh, Daisy," he groaned, taking off at a run for the front door. He took the two flights of stairs three at a time, jumping the last five steps on each staircase. He sprinted thirty feet from the stairs to the foyer and hurdled the various shoes lying on the floor. He continued down the hundred yards of his driveway and finally fell panting by the roadside. And there was Daisy, lying on the road about five feet from an SUV. The owner of the SUV was inspecting her body. 

"Looks like she got hit by a car," the motorist observed. 

Nate's words came interspersed with gasps and coughs. "Of COURSE she was hit by a car, you fool!" he shouted. 

"You got it wrong, chum," the man replied. "_I_ didn't run her over." 

"Well, then, who did?" Nate demanded. 

"Beats me, but it looks like you're gonna need a pretty big spatula." 

"Ugh!" With a grunt, Nate lunged at Daisy. Seizing her wrist, he whipped his own towards his face and stared wildly at his watch. "She's dead." He furrowed his brow and looked back at his watch. "And my watch has stopped." 

Nate knew that Daisy could get hurt, but he hadn't anticipated this. Just as he was really starting to enjoy her company, and despite his numerous precautions, she was _dead. Even worse, she was the spitting image of Mariel – that was plain disturbing. For a brief second, Nate felt physically and emotionally crushed, like a popped balloon. Then he simply went numb. _

Nate looked at the body blankly while the motorist shook his head. Then Nate turned to look at the motorist, a strange and ominous glint in his blue-gray eyes. The motorist turned to run, but Nate was too fast for him. Shoving the man out of the way, Nate hoisted Daisy from the street and stuffed her into the SUV. He swiftly flicked the power locks, and, with the car's owner pounding at its tinted windows, punched the gas and drove off. He felt an unexpected clarity of mind and purpose, and he reminded himself to thank Ellen later. 

About an hour later, Nate had showered away the dirt and grime, changed into a white linen suit, and was just about ready to start watching _Full House_ again. Outside, a storm had gathered and was threatening rain. Once again, he was interrupted, this time by the sound of the front door opening.... 


	2. The Beginning of the End

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Persona or any of the characters described therin. 

* * *

**Part 2: The Beginning Of The End**

Nate's smile was tranquil as he floated down the main stairway to greet Daisy. Inside, a small part of him was both frightened and angry at what he'd just done, but he quickly squelched that feeling. The rest of him felt good, if a bit hazy. He was thinking only of having Daisy back. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs; there she was. 

Barbara, the new butler, took Daisy's raincoat and exited unobtrusively. Daisy shook her hair out and gazed about the mansion warily. Nate watched her smile naturally at Barbara's retreating figure, then her eyes connected with his. Instantly, Nate was overcome with a creator's pride in his monster. She was so lifelike! Her artificial intelligence circuits must have been working overtime. He smiled rapturously and said, simply, "Daisy." 

The girl at the door cocked her head to one side and pinched her lips together to form one paper-thin line. She was scowling. 

"Nate," she said, walking over to stand directly in front of him, "because I am your friend, I'm gonna hold back. And you are gonna explain how you could mistake me for AN ANDROID!" Mariel shook her head. "She can't even sing!" 

Nate's eyebrows took a flying leap over his glasses. "I'm sorry, Mariel. I was expecting Daisy. I didn't think you'd come at all, after you hung up on me." 

Mariel cast a brief, guilty look up at the ceiling. "Oh, that.... I guess I'm sorry, too. But still!" She pressed her lips together and looked around again. "So where is she?" 

Nate said, "She had a bit of an accident. I'm trying a radical new procedure to get her back online. Granted, some of my experiments don't really work as planned, but she should be fine in a bit." 

Mariel sounded impatient, but a tiny smile played on her lips. "Oh, really? Well, should I go pack an overnight bag, or what?" 

"It might be a good idea," Nate replied thoughtfully. He smiled suddenly. "How long has it been since you slept over?" 

Mariel brightened. "Too long!" she answered decisively. "I'll go get that bag!" 

~^^~

Two hours later, Mariel and Nate were roasting marshmallows over a roaring blaze in the enormous decorative fireplace in the Trinity library. Two sleeping bags were laid out on the floor several feet away. 

"Hey, pal," Mariel said, carefully sandwiching a marshmallow between two graham crackers and half a chocolate bar. 

Nate looked at her. "Yes, friend?" he inquired. 

Mariel giggled through a bite of her S'more. "Um, I was just wondering what exactly happened to ol' Ironbutt. Why is it taking so long to fix her?" 

Nate shrugged, "She sustained some massive injuries. One of her batteries ruptured, so I had to replace it and recharge the other one. Also, her skin was damaged, and that'll take longer to fix." Nate smiled into the fire. "You know, Mariel, if I didn't know you better, I'd suspect that you were jealous of Daisy." 

"Jealous? Me?" Mariel snorted. "Of that walking toaster oven? Oh, please. Mimes sing better than she does. And violin? Ha! She's almost at...at...." 

"My level?" 

"Yeah! Look, bottom line, Trinity, I am not jealous." 

"Okay, okay, forget I said anything!" Nate threw his hands up in surrender. 

Mariel licked her lips and stared guiltily at the fire. "Well.... Maybe I am. But just a little!" 

"I'll take it as a compliment," said Nate. 

As the embers of the "campfire" slowly burned out, Nate and Mariel drifted slowly off to sleep. _She doesn't need to know that I have no idea when Daisy is going to come back_, Nate reasoned just before falling into a particularly vivid dream. 

~^^~

The next day, Nate awoke as the sun was rising to find Daisy back...and watching him sleep. Disoriented, he glanced to one side to find Mariel still sleeping fitfully. 

"Daisy," he said, "When did you get in?" 

"Just now," she answered, her voice flat. 

"How do you feel?" Nate asked anxiously. He couldn't help having a certain scientific curiosity. 

"Strange. I'm all cut up." 

"So you are!" Nate exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Let's get you fixed before Mariel wakes up, okay?" 

Nate was still in one of the first-floor bathrooms putting the finishing touches on Daisy when Mariel awoke. 

"Hey, Nate," she said, poking a nappy head into the bathroom, "I'm gonna take a shower, then I'll be down for breakfast in about twenty minutes. Okay?" 

"Okay, I'll see you then." 

"Morning, Daisy." 

"Good morning, Mariel." Daisy's voice was still curiously flat, and she had hardly said a word since her return. Still, Nate was happy to have her back, so he simply chalked it up to shock and told her to wait for him while he went to shower and change. 

~^^~

Mariel sat on the edge of the large antique tub while she waited idly for the water to heat. Nate had told her once upon a time that it took some time for the hot water to reach the outer limits of the mansion, and that seemed to be the case now. At last, the water heated, and Mariel turned on the shower spigot. 

She liked her showers hot, and steam quickly filled even the moderately spacious second-floor guest bathroom. Mariel also enjoyed high water pressure, which was why she had always used this bathroom – it was the only one that the Trinities had never bothered getting a low-flow showerhead for. 

As the water hissed and spattered, Mariel didn't notice the door gently sliding open. A figure entered, shrouded by the steam, and slunk silently to the shower. Mariel began to hum. 

Suddenly, the shower curtain was violently yanked aside – and Mariel was confronted by herself. She gasped; her twin, faster than she was, raised her hand to strike. Metal flashed in the hazy light. Mariel was struck, over and over. She screamed, blindly reaching out to grab at the weapon. Her assailant fled. 

~^^~

Mariel stomped angrily down the stairs, hair mussed and school uniform hastily thrown on. Nate was waiting for her at the breakfast table, eating Cheerios with a plastic spoon, and Daisy was serving him a cup of coffee. 

"NATE!" Mariel shrieked. 

"What?" he asked, dismayed. Daisy sat down, watching with little interest. 

Mariel threw one of her best death gazes at Daisy. "Your little experiment here just tried to kill me!" 

Nate was shocked. "Daisy?" 

"Who else? I know my own face when it's trying to stab me with these!" Mariel held out a pair of blue plastic safety scissors. 

Nate took the scissors wordlessly and tried to suppress a laugh. Eventually, he said, "What, seriously?" 

Mariel sat down heavily. "Yes, seriously. She tried to stab me, like Norman Bates or something. Isn't that why you replaced all the dangerous stuff in the house?" 

"Hmm, I guess it is," Nate answered thoughtfully. "This may require a little investigation." He looked Daisy over appraisingly. "Daisy, did you stab Mariel?" 

"No," she replied. 

"Tell the truth," he insisted. 

"No," said Daisy. 

"Liar," Mariel hissed. Daisy did not respond. 

"Hmm." Nate sipped his coffee. "Yeech! What's in this?! It tastes like...like...like tempera paint?" 

At that moment, Barbara Wilson, the new Trinity family butler, ran out of the kitchen holding a large jar of green Crayola tempera paint. 

"Master Nate, sir! Don't drink that coffee!" 

"What's going on here, Barbara?" 

"I think she may have poisoned your coffee, sir." Barbara grabbed the offending coffee mug and sniffed its contents. "I was using this paint to patch up the stenciling in the kitchen, when the phone rang. When I came back, I saw several mugs sitting out, a coffee pot, and the paint jar open." 

"I guess I was right about the paint. But, Barbara," Nate grinned, "no one ever died from drinking non-toxic paint. Good job, anyway. Holmes would be proud." 

"Well, you just watch yourself," Barbara said, looking warily at the two girls. 

"I will. Thank you. Now, girls, shall we be off?" Nate held out both arms, crooked at the elbow. 

"Let's shall," the pair answered in unison, each grabbing an elbow. Mariel's fiery stare met Daisy's blank one, and so the week began. 


	3. What Evil Lurks in the Hearts of Robots

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Persona or any of the characters described therin. 

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**Part 3: What Evil Lurks In The Hearts Of Robots**

**_~Monday~_**

Ninth hour Advanced Art. On the outside, Daisy was, like Mariel, pretty and innocuous. On the inside, she was an icy-hearted killing machine. In fact, Daisy was determined to be the best killing machine she could be, darn it all. 

She stood at one end of the long, cluttered room and took it all in. It wasn't difficult to spot her target in his bright yellow cap. He was deep in concentration, standing in front of a large canvas propped up on an easel, moving around, examining the composition from every angle. Silently, using the few shadows afforded her by the fluorescent lights, she sidled up to Mark and slipped past him to end up behind the canvas. Calculating quickly just the right amount of force to knock the easel off two of its four legs, she watched Mark surreptitiously to get the timing right. He was so inconsistent! With the savage speed of a robot, she averaged his speed and breadth of movement, then tapped the canvas gently on one corner.... 

"My hand! My hand! Jesus God, no!" Mark sobbed. "I'll never draw again. I'll have to...study real subjects...." His eyes widened and he began to wail louder. 

**_~Tuesday~_**

Eighth Hour Western Civilizations. Daisy was sent to the supply cabinet to get some supplies for a class project. Prowling the halls panther-like, she gloated over her teacher's stupidity – imagine, setting a killing machine like her free to walk the school! 

She gathered the materials stealthily, and crept out of the supply cabinet. Although disappointed at not having spotted a suitable victim all day, she consoled herself with the thought that tomorrow she would have more. Suddenly, she saw him: Brad Banta! Almost giddy with the thought of carnage, she looked at her hands. Hm, markers, rulers, calculators...nothing that would make a suitable weapon. She'd have to think. She couldn't kill Brad, but what would make him _want_ to die? 

Eureka! Daisy chose her weapon and attacked. 

**_~Wednesday~_**

Daisy was on the prowl during her study hall when she noticed Mary. Mary was sitting innocuously enough in class, but she had a positively gruesome paper-mache statue with her that held an intriguing object. Unable to resist trying a new and delightful implement of destruction, she waited until Mary was carrying the thing past the doorway and struck like a cobra.... 

**_~Thursday~_**

By Thursday, it was clear to Nate that he was being shunned. He had specifically skipped Calc to sit with his friends at lunch, and the only one who would talk to him was Ellen, who had apparently escaped Daisy's wrath. Even so, they ate in almost total silence at one end of their group's table as Nate searched desperately for something to talk about. 

"Ellen." 

She looked up. 

"Do you know, uh. Anything about dreams?" Nate asked, suddenly feeling very warm. 

She laughed. "Your face is all red. Well, Freud thought that all dreams were wish fulfillment. Do you think your dream is wish fulfillment?" 

Nate considered. "No. I thought it was a version of our...adventure last year. Only then I thought it was a version of that Hawthorne story we just read in English, 'Young Goodman Brown'. Now I don't know what to think." 

Ellen shrugged coolly. "So, what happened?" 

For a moment, Nate struggled to remember the details. Then, "It started in the school library. Kain was there, but he looked different. He looked...normal. He told me I should study because I had tests in all eight classes tomorrow." 

"A typical school nightmare. Common even in adults who have been out of school for years. Although in dream analysis, libraries usually indicate thought before action." 

"But then, the scene changed. I was in the forest where that burial ground – that _alleged burial ground was. I was watching all of us go up the path. Then we all watched you for a while. Everything was a lot darker than I remembered. Then you all disappeared, and it was only me, Daisy, and Mariel. I couldn't tell them apart. One of them was holding a raccoon. It bit her, and she screamed... I can't remember what happened after that." He trailed off, thinking. _

Ellen said, "It might just be a simple nightmare. You were affected more deeply than you thought by my little story, or you were anxious about the tension between Mariel and Daisy. The raccoon, symbolizing treachery, bit one of them – you didn't know which one, because in waking life, you can't choose between them." 

"Demons!" Nate exclaimed. 

"Demons?" 

"Demons started coming up out of the ground. The girl who wasn't bitten grabbed my arm, and I held her." 

"Demons are said to represent overindulgence, especially lustful overindulgence." Ellen eyed him, "you haven't been fooling around with either of them, have you?" 

Nate sighed. "No." 

"Wish you did?" 

"Hey, I'm an average eighteen-year-old guy with average..." Nate's lips pulled back in an involuntary shiver and Ellen's did the same. 

"Never mind," she said. "I get the idea. The darkness you mentioned earlier could mean self-inflicted problems, especially in combination with the library. In fact, that option is looking more and more likely." 

Nate scowled viciously. "That's not all, yet." 

"More?" 

"The demons took the girl – whoever she was – and pulled her underground. On the far side of the clearing was a grave with a bouquet of daisies marking the spot. In the end, I got pulled under, too. That's when I woke up." 

Ellen stared at him. "Daisies?" 

Nate shrugged. "Seemed simple enough to me. Daisies. Daisy. I figured that meant that the girl who was bitten was Mariel." 

"Simple enough, sure," she said thoughtfully, "but daisies also mean sorrow. Could be that Daisy ends up being your sorrow, for some reason involving betrayal of Mariel. This is an extremely ominous dream, you know. When did you say you had it?" 

"The night Daisy was injured, Sunday night." 

"Daisy was injured?" 

"Playing in traffic," Nate explained. "I had to leave some of her repairs for the next morning. Mariel slept over that night, too." 

"Innocently, I presume?" Ellen asked, arching an eyebrow. 

"Of course," Nate answered sternly. 

Ellen sighed. "It looks to me like you got a message – and unfortunately, it's too late to hear it now. I think your sorrow has already begun." She looked pointedly at their friends, who were comparing injuries and starting a betting pool for who would end up with the best scar. 

"You're telling me," said Nate. 

**_~Friday~_**

Friday started innocuously enough for Nate. He did notice that Daisy was absent in Symphony Orchestra first hour, but when he asked Mariel about it, she pled ignorance. PE and Honors English passed without incident, and he ate a PowerBar surreptitiously between classes to tide him over until he could skip Calculus and go to lunch with his friends. However, when he sat down with them fifth hour, he could tell something was wrong immediately. First of all, no one but Alana was there, and she was pouting and holding an ice pack over one eye. 

"Alana? What happened to you during Law?" Nate had English with Alana, and she had seemed fine then. 

"Your droid happened to me!" she whined, taking the ice pack off her eye. It was swollen shut and turning greenish-yellow, an unpleasant color that clashed with her pink headband. "Can you believe it? Green on the one day I wear pink! My head looks like a watermelon!" 

"What happened?" Nate repeated, looking with concern at her eye. 

"We were making these concept maps, right? We had all the art supplies out. Well, stupid Daisy was playing helicopter...you know, with a ruler and a pencil? And she _put my eye out! I just don't believe it. But you know what? I'm not the only one." She scowled as well as she could with one eye. _

"Oh, no – Yuki is in your Law class, too, isn't she?" 

"Yeah. She got off lucky. Daisy was running with scissors Tuesday and almost imp – impressed – " 

"Impaled?" Nate inquired with a sigh. 

"Yeah! Impaled her! Come on, we want to talk to you in private." Alana jerked her head towards the hall. 

Nate followed Alana to a deserted room in a room just off the gymnasium. Deserted, that is, except for his entire circle of friends, who were all waiting impatiently and all sporting minor injuries. Daisy was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, still looking oddly lifeless. 

Mark began, "Nate, this ain't the first time this metal beeyotch has messed with us." His right arm, his drawing arm, was in a sling. "You see this? She tipped over a canvas I was working on and smashed my arm! Pure luck that she didn't get my head!" 

"This wasn't an accident – she tried to stab me with the coat hanger on my Sybil statue in Sociology!" Mary added angrily. 

Ellen continued, "She tried to drop my crystal ball on me during my presentation in World Religions today. Luckily, I dodged and she only got my foot, but...." She gestured at her bandaged right foot. 

"Aside from the fact that she tried to impale me with a pair of scissors on Tuesday," Yuki said curtly, "she broke my violin over my head just before Symphony Orchestra this morning." 

"That's why you weren't in class?" Nate asked pointlessly. 

"..." said Reno. 

"And poor Reno lost his voice after she talked him into a corner in choir this morning," said Mary. 

"She talked?" asked Nate. 

"What's your excuse this time?" Brad demanded. The skin on his forehead had been rubbed raw, Nate noticed, yet the "DOOFUS" brand, apparently drawn on with a Sharpie, was only slightly faded. 

Nate pursed his lips and steepled his hands, the way he always did when about to give a speech. "As I told you before, she is sentient, and I don't control her. If you want to understand her motivation, ask _her_." 

"We have!" Mark growled. "She doesn't answer." 

"Daisy Faye Buchanan," Nate said sternly, "you will tell us what you're up to this very minute." 

"I can't," she said. 

"Why not?" Nate demanded. 

"I'm evil," she answered, sounding rather regretful this time. 

"Evil?" echoed Nate. 

"Yes," she said, "I was killed and then resurrected as a real girl." She sighed dolefully. "A real, _evil_ girl. So it must be." 

Nate's mouth formed a tight o. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and that was south – in a hurry. _As long as nobody asks..._

"Why?" asked Mark. 

_Damn_, thought Nate. 

"Because Nate buried me in the Toltec burial ground. According to the legend, I have to return from the grave and be evil." 

"You did _what_?" Ellen shrieked. "You don't even believe that stupid folk story!" 

"I was very distraught," said Nate defensively. 

"What on earth came over you," Yuki marveled, "that you thought you could resurrect a robot by burying her in an Indian cemetery? Distraught is one thing, insane is quite another!" 

The entire group started shouting at Nate. 

"Hey, HEY!" Daisy cried above the din. "Does this mean I'm not evil?" 

They all quieted. 

"No, Daisy, you're not evil. And you're not a real girl, either," said Nate. He straightened his collar. "I hope we've all learned a lesson from this. You see, when Daisy was frustrated, she looked at all of us and envied our gifts. But it's these unique talents that make us who we are. We should always stay true to ourselves, and be only the best that we can – nothing more, and nothing less." 

The group stopped, puzzled, for a moment. 

"We _have_ learned a good lesson," said Yuki doubtfully. 

"That's right," Nate confirmed. 

"And I guess we'll all heal in time," said Ellen. 

"Of course." 

"Daisy, I'm willing to forgive and forget if you are," said Mariel. "Whaddya say, gang?" 

This proposal was met with hearty agreement and a beaming Daisy was released. 

"There's just one loose end," said Mariel, smiling, "What are we going to do with _him_?" 

"Wet noodle!" 

"Spanking machine!" 

"Fire ants on the eyelids!" 

"Fire ants! Fire ants!" the group chanted in unison. Nate shrank back as they advanced, chanting, upon him and dragged him back through the woods, to that selfsame burial ground where all the trouble began. Laughing ghoulishly, they buried him up to his neck and watched as fire ants marched in from all eight compass directions towards him and his soft, soft eyes.... 

~^^~

Nate gasped as he sat bolt upright, electricity racing through him like a superconductor. He felt his head to make sure his eyes were intact, then, with eyes clenched tightly shut, he investigated his surroundings with his hands. He was on a surface that was springy, soft, and slightly warm to the touch. Opening his eyes slightly, he determined that he was, in fact, in bed. He was wearing white linen, and his television was on, but the screen was blue. He popped the unmarked tape out of the VCR and noted that it had played all the way through. 

"Of course," he said with relief, "I'm still in bed! It was all a bad dream! I'm going to walk out of here and down to Daisy's bedroom, and she'll be in there, all safe and..." 

His bedroom door crrrrrrreeeeeeeaked open. 

Nate's mouth went dry. 

Creeeeeeeeak. 

Daisy appeared in the doorway, clothes torn and soaked to the skin. 

"Daisy...?" 

"Nate," she said, "I am going to _kill_ you." 

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Piracy of a Stephen King novel, indeed. I'm a fan of the big guy, and I had just finished watching _Pet Sematary_ (one of his scariest movie adaptations or one of his silliest, depending on who you ask) when I thought that maybe I could spoof it. Of course, there would have to be a twist, and Daisy was a convenient catalyst. Aside from watching scary movies, I did a little research by making use of The Dream Dictionary to write the dream analysis scene – it's a great resource. 


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